


i'm not good for anyone here (on hiatus)

by lunamarii



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream is only mentioned, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure he is a very lovely man, IRL Fic, Im sorry to fatherinnit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Beta Read, Theyre Brothers Your Honor, Unreliable Narrator, get the fuck outta here, if you read this as romantic i will personally murder you, just a work of fiction, no beta we die like squeeks, this is not speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunamarii/pseuds/lunamarii
Summary: Tommy doesn't understand the look Wilbur gives him when he says that Dream acts just like his dad.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 36
Kudos: 607





	1. i'm not good for anyone here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced/Described Child Abuse
> 
> title is from "i'm sorry boris" by wilbur
> 
> this is not speculation about any cc's, it is simply a work of fiction

“So what do you think of the story so far?” Tommy asks, fiddling with his headphone cord. It’s almost one in the morning, and he’s sat in a discord call with Wilbur, both of them doing work. Tommy’s film homework, however, sits abandoned, with him having given up thirty minutes ago, his brain fried.

“What, on the SMP? It’s great! It’s really interesting to see it become more character-based, ‘cause I’m not very good at writing that sort of stuff. I think the dynamic between you and Dream is super interesting as well,” Wilbur replies absentmindedly, his focus on a video he’s editing.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?“ Even Tommy can tell how flat his response sounded. He just hopes Wilbur was too distracted to notice.

“What’s up?” Well, shit.

“Hmm?” Tommy looks up, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t hmm me. You love this shit, why do you sound so weird about it?” Wilbur’s attention is fully on Tommy now, and as much as Tommy would like to avoid the question, he knows Will wouldn’t let him get away with it. He huffs out a sigh.

“I don’t know, it just feels like Dream’s not really playing his character, y’know?” His eyes drift back to where he’s wrapped the headphone cord around one of his fingers.

“What, like his SMP character isn’t really a character? Is he acting mean to you outside of roleplay? Tommy, do I need to talk to-” Tommy cuts him off before he can finish, Wilbur having completely misread the situation.

“No, no, just the opposite really. He’s just being, like, way too nice and normal, like, in character. Which is fine, I guess, but I thought Dream was supposed to be the bad guy? It just feels like he’s not even trying to give my character a reason to dislike him, which, y’know, would be fine, except for that’s supposed to be my whole thing…” Tommy says, voice trailing off. His eyes dart up to the screen where he can see Wilbur looking at him strangely.

“Tommy, can I ask you a question? And you have to answer honestly.” 

“Wow, a bit heavy there big man.” Tommy laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, shoot.”

“Can you like, describe to me what exactly Dream is doing and why? Storywise, I mean. I just want to make sure I have everything right.” Tommy gives Wilbur a weird look but sees that he looks dead serious, so he answers.

“Well, he takes my armor and tools and blows them up because he says I didn’t earn them, which to be fair, I didn’t really, but not always, because sometimes I have. He, uh, keeps my character in touch with reality, y’know? Doesn’t let him go off thinking he has all these friends and people to back him up, cause he doesn’t. But he also reminds him that he’ll always be there for him? No matter what, he’s the only one who’ll stick around him,” Tommy says.

“And that’s what you would call nice?” Tommy shrinks back into himself. Fuck. Did he say something wrong?

“I mean it’s not like, extra mean or anything. Just like, normal for like…”

“Toms, I’m not accusing you of anything,” Wilbur says, his voice gentle. “I’m just curious.” Tommy unfurls a little bit.

“I dunno mate, if anything, he’s acting a bit like my dad y’know?” Tommy chuckles a bit at the comparison.

“How so?” There’s an unreadable look in Wilbur’s eyes.

“What?” How does he not get it?

“How exactly is he acting like your dad?”

“I mean, I’m still a minor, so most of my money from Twitch and shit is in, like, a shared account with my parents and stuff, so if there’s a stream or video that really just tanked, or was generally bad, he’ll move the revenue out. Which is fair, because if it really was that bad, I didn’t really earn it did I? He just wants me to do well and work hard, keep doing my best.”

“What about the stuff Dream does if you say no?” What?

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know how Dream will give you a whack or two with his sword if you don’t give him your shit? Does your dad do anything like that?” Tommy scoffs.

“I mean yeah, of course, but only when I’m being annoying or forget to like, do the dishes or something, or bomb a test. I definitely deserve it, y’know?” Tommy has no idea why Wilbur’s asking him this.

“What exactly does he do?” 

“Oh, it’s not much, usually a smack or two, but one time, at my old school, these bitches cornered me in the fucking bathroom, I don’t even remember why, probably some shit with my channel or something, and it wasn’t really fair, four on one, like who even does that-” Tommy is rambling.

“Tommy.”

“Right, sorry. So long story short, I got the shit beat out of me, and my dad was pissed, which was fair because it was honestly my fault for letting people at my school find out about my channel, but anyway, he was pissed and threw a vase or something at my head. I dodged, obviously, and it hit the wall instead, but I was finding little bits of it in the back of my head and neck for weeks after. And then my mum was pissed too because that was apparently my grandmum’s vase or whatever, so I had to clean it up and pay for it.” Tommy’s chest is getting tight, and his eyes are starting to sting.

“Where is your mum in all this?” Tommy sucks in a breath, and it’s much harder than it should be.

“Working, she goes on business trips a lot, so my dad’s pretty stressed. I try to help out as much as I can, but I screw up a lot.” God, Tommy misses his mum.

“Tommy, are you alright?” He’s fine.

“Of course big man, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Tommy, you’re crying.” Huh. Wilbur’s voice is so genuinely concerned, and he sounds like he cares, and it would be so easy to just let it all go, but- 

_ “Don’t annoy that Wilbur guy too much, yeah? He’s honestly doing you a massive favor even letting you hang around him. We both know you never would have made it without him, it’s not like you would have gotten anywhere near where you are on your own. So just shut up around him, and maybe he’ll let you ride his coattails a bit longer.” _ His dad’s words ring in his head. Tommy sucks it up.

“No, I’m not, I’m sweating out my eyes.” Wilbur lets out a sigh, fingers reaching under his glasses to rub at his eyes.

“Toms, I’m going to say something to you and I want you to really hear what I’m about to say.”

“Okay, Big W,” Tommy responds, attempting to slip back into his streaming persona, into being confident and loud, into not giving a shit what people think of him. Just put on the persona and he’ll forget what happened. Put on the persona and he’ll forget what you said. Put-

“Dream is not being nice to you. He is gaslighting and isolating you. Tommy, he's supposed to be abusing you.” Well, whatever Tommy thought Wilbur was going to say, it wasn’t that. He almost laughs at how absurd the statement is.

“Well, that’s just fucking stupid.” Tommy internally winces at how harsh the words come out.

“Tommy, I’ve talked to Dream about the script, about his character. His character is intentionally written to be abusive. Dream even wanted me to check on you, make sure that he wasn’t hurting you in real life unintentionally.”

“Well, Dream is also fucking stupid,” Tommy bites, the hidden implications of Wilbur’s statement just starting to settle in.

“Toms-”

“No, no. I’m right, and you and Dream are just idiots because-”

“Tommy, please-” Wilbur’s voice sounds hurt, but Tommy can’t stop talking, can’t stop trying to work his way around the ugly, withering truth staring him in the face.

“Because if Dream is “abusive”, then that means my dad…” Tommy’s voice falters and his speech is panicked. “My dad is a great dad, and he loves me, he does, he just doesn’t always show it. But it’s my fault! I mess up a lot and I make his life hard, but he always loves me. He does. He does. Right? He has to, right?” He’s crying now, can taste the salt in his mouth, and knows he can’t talk his way out of this one.

“I mean, I’m his kid, right? Wilbur?” Tommy finally looks at Wilbur, and Wilbur looks devastated, tears silently racing down his face. Tommy’s breath catches in his throat.  _ Is he crying because of me? _

“Tommy.” Wilbur’s voice is soft. “Toms, I want you to know something. I love you so much, and I am so incredibly proud of you, and nothing will ever change that. You could break every rule of TOS, you could never post again, hell, you could delete every trace of yourself and go off the grid, never speak to me again, and I would still love you and be proud of you. I know we joke about being brothers a lot to make fun of the fans, but Tommy, you really are my little brother. I mean, Jesus, you’re my fucking family, y’know?” 

Tommy really breaks then, burying his face into his hands, body wracked with sobs. He’d never told anyone how much he sought out Wilbur’s approval, how desperate he was for any scrap of positive attention, how whenever he was called annoying or muted, it stung just a little more each time. Tommy had always seen Wilbur as an older brother, as someone he wanted to call family, but had never even hoped that Wilbur might feel the same. He hears Wilbur let out a pained noise.

“I care about you so much, and I want you to be happy and safe. So please, please, if you ever,  _ ever _ , need anything, call me and I’ll be there. I don’t give a shit if I’m in a different country, on a different fucking continent, I’ll hop on the first fucking flight. Just, call me. Please.” Tommy wipes his face with the sleeves of his hoodie, the fabric darkening from his tears.

“I’ll call you.” His voice is raw.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You should go to bed, Toms. It’s getting late.”

“Wilbur?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you- could you play me a song? I don’t know if I can sleep- I-” Tommy’s voice wavers. “It’s a bit too quiet over here.”

“Of course.” Tommy hears some shuffling on the other end of the mic, and Wilbur settling down. As the soft notes of La Jolla filter through his headphones, Tommy closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Thanks so much for reading! There will be at least one more chapter of this fic, so keep an eye out for that. This chapter will also most likely be updated and changed in the next few days, because I'm impatient and want to upload as soon as I can, thus most of my works are living documents. That being said, leave a kudos if you enjoyed, and any comments, questions, or criticisms in the comments below! 
> 
> You can also find me on these socials: 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lunamarii__/)
> 
> [reddit](http://reddit.com/u/borderline_alive)


	2. that's why i'm fucking leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's life comes to a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: child abuse, unhealthy eating habits  
> CW: swearing, minor depiction of blood
> 
> chapter title from "jubilee line" by wilbur
> 
> large chunks of italics denote a flashback
> 
> not beta-ed
> 
> this is not speculation about any cc's, it's simply a work of fiction

Tommy stares at Wilbur’s contact in his phone. He knows, _knows_ , he promised to call. And he had been! He’d talked to Wilbur often in the past month, even when neither of them was streaming. Though he wouldn’t admit it, it was so _nice_ to talk to someone who didn’t give a shit about his numbers or subs, but actually cared for Tommy. Wilbur was so genuinely kind and worried about his well-being, that it was hard for Tommy to ever hang-up.

It also meant that he was reluctant to call him about this. Tommy’s health, both mental and physical, was, for lack of a better word, shit. When Will had called him yesterday, he hadn’t slept in three days and hadn’t eaten for more. Wilbur, aghast, had pleaded with him to take a break and treat himself better. Tommy had reluctantly agreed to take a week off from streaming, announcing the news on Twitter this morning.

His dad didn’t take it well. He’d come home from work furious, the slam of the front door rattling the whole house. Tommy had slowly walked down to greet him, terrified of his reaction. 

_Tommy’s dad grabs his hair in one hand, pulling his head back while shoving a phone in Tommy’s face with the other. Tommy’s tweet is on the screen._

_“What. The fuck. Is this,” his dad hisses out, face growing red with anger. Tommy is silent. His dad’s grip on his hair grows tighter._

_“I just wanted a break for a bit,” he winces out, face twisting in pain. His dad all but throws him against the wall, releasing him._

_“You think you deserve a break?” his dad says, scarily quiet. “You think you can just say ‘Oh, I don’t want to stream this week’? This is a fucking job, Tom, not some stupid little hobby you can just drop.”_

_“It was just going to be for a we-” Tommy’s dad lands a punch on his face._

_“I work all fucking day, and this is the thanks I get? An insolent child who refuses to work to pay me the dues I’m owed? No wonder your mother is always gone, she doesn’t want to deal with an ungrateful brat.” He punches Tommy again, this time in the stomach. Tommy keels over, the wind knocked out of him._

_“I’m going to the pub. Be gone before I get back.” Tommy’s dad sneers, landing a final, petty kick on Tommy’s rib cage. He slams the door once again on his way out._

_The house is quiet._

_Tommy lays still and doesn’t move until he hears the car start up and drive away. When he’s certain his dad is gone, he moves to sit up, but a flare of pain in his ribs almost knocks him back down._

_“Shit,” he whispers to himself. He hopes his ribs are only bruised and not broken. Broken ribs are not something he’s equipped to handle. He pulls his shirt up, biting down on it as he finally stands. God forbid he disturb the neighbors._

_Tommy slowly limps up the stairs, one hand on the rail and the other cradling his ribs, trying to keep them as still as possible. When he reaches his room, he immediately grabs his school bag, dumping out the contents and throwing as many clothes as he can fit in there. He also grabs his headphones (‘cause he paid for them, you arse), his phone charger, his phone, and his wallet. Tommy doesn’t bother to check the contents of his wallet, wanting to get out of this house as fast as possible._

_Once his bag is packed, he slips into his parents’ room, going to where he knows his birth certificate and National Insurance number are held. He doesn’t want to ever come back here._

_After he slips the documents in an old folder he still had from primary school, Tommy shoulders his bag and heads downstairs._

_He considers taking one last look around, to say goodbye but decides, fuck it. Tommy walks out the door and doesn’t look back._

Tommy had called a cab to take him to the nearest ATM, where he’d withdrawn five hundred pounds. He’d then asked it to take him to the train station, which is where he’s standing now, staring at Wilbur’s name in his phone.

Tommy exits his contacts to ask Twitch to hold his payments, avoiding making a decision as long as he can. He also emails his college, letting them know that it was unlikely he’d be returning. 

Tommy goes back to his contacts,

A drop of blood lands on the screen. Tommy locks his phone, cursing, and raises his hand to his mouth where his split lip has reopened. That seals it for him. Tommy is _way_ out of his depth this time. He goes into the train station bathroom. Luckily there’s no one there, so Tommy grabs a paper towel to hold to his lip, and finally calls Wilbur.

The phone rings.

Wilbur picks up.

“Hold on, I’m gonna mute for a minute, Tommy’s calling me,” comes through, muffled, like Will is blocking the mic. Tommy feels guilty. _Did he interrupt something?_ “Tommy! What’s up, big man?”

“Sorry, are you busy?”

“Nah, I was just in a call with Phil and Techno,” he responds. “But really, what’s up?”

“D’you think-” Tommy takes a deep breath and immediately regrets it, a sharp pain radiating from his ribs. “Fuck!”

“Tommy?” asks Wilbur, his voice now laced with concern. “Is everything alright?” Tommy looks up, trying to hold back tears. “Toms?” 

“No. It’s not alright, Wilbur, I don’t know what to do, I’m only 16, I-” Tommy is crying now, and the shallow breaths he’d been taking to avoid agitating his ribs are causing him to hyperventilate. “Wilbur, I’m scared.”

“Everything will be okay, I promise, Tommy. Just breathe with me, Toms, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight.” Wilbur repeats the pattern with Tommy a few more times until Tommy has slightly calmed down. “You’re still breathing a bit shallow there, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I- I think my ribs are bruised, maybe broken.” He hears Wilbur suck in a breath.

“Okay, okay, um- are you safe?” Tommy looks around the bathroom.

“I think so.”

“Alright. That’s good. Can you tell me where you are?” Tommy can tell that Wilbur is trying to keep his voice calm and level, but an underlying panic still seeps through.

“I’m at the train station. Do you think- do you think I could stay with you? Just for a bit?” Wilbur lets out a sigh or relief.

“Of course. Of course you can.”

“Thank you,” Tommy says quietly. “I’m really sorry for disturbing you, and-”

“Don’t,” Wilbur interjects. “Don’t apologize. Not to me, and never for that. I meant it when I said that I’d be there for you no matter what. Just get a ticket, and we’ll talk more when you get here. Do you need money?”

“No,” Tommy says, checking to see if his lip had stopped bleeding. It had. “I have money.”

“Okay. Toms?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Wilby.”

“Did you just call me Wilb-”

“Okay, bye!” Tommy hangs up, a faint smile on his face. _What a prick._ Tommy throws away the bloody paper towel and heads out of the bathroom to the ticket counter. 

The counter is staffed by an old woman, who looks at Tommy with disdain when she sees the state of his face.

“One ticket to Brighton please, the next time you have,” he requests as politely as he can, not wanting to draw any more of the woman’s ire.

“One-way or roundtrip?” she asks bluntly, not bothering to make eye contact.

“One-way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I did quite a bit of research on the rights of 16-year-olds in the UK for this so I figured I'd share some things that are relevant to the story.
> 
> \- At 16 in England, you can legally leave your parents' house (without consent) or get kicked out.  
> \- You can also apply to 6th forms/colleges without parental consent  
> \- For any Americans, a National Insurance number is a bit like Social Security numbers. You need it to pay taxes and apply for jobs or benefits. It's usually automatically issued to citizens when they turn 16.
> 
> Once again, thanks so much for reading! Leave a kudos if you enjoyed, and feel free to put any comments, questions or criticisms in the comments below! 
> 
> You can also find me on these socials:
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lunamarii__/)
> 
> [reddit](http://reddit.com/u/borderline_alive)


	3. not an update

Hey, y'all. So as you saw from the chapter title, this is unfortunately not an update. I'm actually taking a break from writing on here for a couple of reasons. I'm swamped with the schoolwork of junior year, and I'm also struggling a bit with my mental health. It's nothing bad or dangerous, just trying to learn how to manage my ADHD.

I know that I didn't need to make this update, but I felt bad for not posting for a month. It doesn't feel fair to just go AWOL, especially with the kind words I received on the first two chapters. I really want to come back, and can't wait until I feel ready and able to write again. 

I've been in fandom and fanfic culture for a really long time, and I can honestly say that the MCYT and DSMP fic communities are the kindest and most respectful I've ever seen.

I'll still be active on my twitter, which is linked at the bottom of all my notes.

Love you all, and can't wait to see you again.

\- lunamarii


End file.
